


Know What You Are

by MercurialTenacity



Series: It's A Cruel World for Small Things [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dark!Graves, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Master/Pet, Object Insertion, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Rape, Referenced Feminization, pet!Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Credence lies curled on the sofa, drifting fitfully in and out of sleep.  He doesn’t know where Graves and Grindelwald go.  He doesn’t ask and they don’t tell him.  That’s not the point of him.When the door clicks Credence’s eyes fly open.  Graves tosses his coat over the back of a chair as he enters, loosening his tie with one hand.  He glances at Credence and waves a hand at him, distracted.  “Get yourself prepared.  I won’t be long.”Technically a follow up to Don’t Fight the Power, but it works as a stand alone.





	Know What You Are

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon who requested more with Dark!Graves in the same verse as Don’t Fight the Power. This is perhaps a more typical day in the life of pet!Credence. 
> 
> Enjoy and read the tags!

Credence lies curled on the sofa, drifting fitfully in and out of sleep.  He doesn’t know when Graves and Grindelwald are coming back – it could be any moment, time drifts hazily through Credence’s head and he doesn’t always know how long it is from one moment to the next.  He doesn’t know where they go during the day.  He doesn’t ask, and they don’t tell him.  That’s not the point of him.

When the door clicks Credence’s eyes fly open.  He doesn’t dare move from where they placed him on the couch, unwilling to risk it, and he hears their voices as they enter.  His heart rate picks up.

“…should have seen the way they were looking at you Gellert, I’m looking forward to reading about _that_ in the paper tomorrow.”  Graves tosses his coat over the back of a chair, loosening his tie with one hand.  He glances at Credence and waves a hand at him, distracted.  “Get undressed.”

Credence hastens to do so, even as his heart sinks.  He had hoped… but he should have known he’s not allowed such luxuries as hope.  He tugs off his shirt, his pants, his underwear, folding them all quickly but precisely and setting them on the floor.  He’s glad it’s Graves tonight.  Graves never wants a show.

Graves looks back to him, taking in his naked form before glancing back to Grindelwald quizzically.  “Why do we still put him in clothes?”

Grindelwald considers him from where he stands at the sideboard, opening a bottle of whiskey.  “He’s rather plain otherwise, don’t you think?  He’s nice enough when he’s flushed and crying, but otherwise… hm.”  He shakes his head, and laughs when he looks back to Graves.  “If you’re afraid it’s giving him ideas I’ll find him something more suitable.  I’m thinking ribbons and lace,” he says, smiling slowly.  “Decorate him all pretty.”

Credence stares at the floor, a helpless flush spreading down his body.  He knows he’s Grindelwald’s to do with as he chooses.

Grindelwald walks over to him and tips Credence’s chin up, one finger _pressing_ just under his jaw.  “Would you like that?”

Credence gulps.  “Yes sir.”  He can picture it, Grindelwald wrapping him in lace and frills and then _playing_ with him until the blood soaks through.  “I would sir.”

Grindelwald smirks and pinches Credence’s nipple sharply, enough to make Credence flinch as arousal arcs through him.  He’s not very good at telling pain from pleasure anymore.

“Are you going to let me see to these papers or not, Gellert?  If you want to play take him in the other room.”

No – it was supposed to be Graves not Grindelwald, he’d been the one to tell Credence to undress it was supposed to be him –

“Oh, I think I’ll leave him to you tonight.  I’m not lacking for entertainment.”

Graves nods in acknowledgement, already gathering up papers from the table.  Grindelwald leaves the room with a muttered “Work then, if you must,” and an overwrought sigh.

Credence stands still, afraid to move.  If he does well, if he’s good, Graves might make it feel nice for him.  If not, if he makes the man angry enough to lose his temper…  Credence shudders.  At least with Graves he has a chance, even if the risks are much higher.  Graves heads to his own room, beckoning Credence to follow, and begins arranging the papers on his desk.

After a few moments Graves glances up and his eyes land on Credence again, seeming to just remember that he’s still standing there.  “Get yourself prepared.  I won’t be long.”

And that’s a good sign, if Graves intended it to hurt he wouldn’t give Credence the chance to make himself ready.  But… 

“…s-sir?”

Credence is afraid to ask, he’s afraid he’s judged wrong, but Graves seemed to be in a good mood and it might be worth it if he is –

Graves looks up again, annoyance on his face at the further interruption, and Credence flinches.  His voice is a whisper.  “May I use the slick, sir?”

“Oh.”  Graves gives a vague gesture of indifference.  “Yes, go on.”

Credence sags with relief, tears springing to his eyes at Graves’ kindness.  He hurries to the drawer to pull out the bottle, small and crystal with the potion Credence covets inside.  He takes it in hand and climbs on the bed, kneeling with his thighs spread wide.  He uncaps the bottle and pours some of the contents into his hand, smooth and cool on his fingers, before bending over and planting one hand on the mattress to hold his weight, reaching back with the other to open up his hole.  He spreads the slick over it generously, guessing that Graves won’t do as Grindelwald sometimes does and tell him he’s used too much.  He doesn’t want to waste time, not knowing how long Graves will take with his papers.

He also can’t resist taking a moment to rub slow circles over his hole before pressing inside, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes at the gentle press of his own finger.  There was a time, he thinks, when he would have said this was a sin, the devil’s work, but he can’t remember it very well now.

Slowly but firmly he presses one finger inside himself, helped by the glide of the slick, and bites back a moan.  Graves doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s working.  His hole tightens up reflexively and he breathes through it, making himself relax, before pulling his finger out and pressing in again.  He slides it all the way to the base and pumps into himself, soon adding a second and then eventually a third as soon as he’s able to fit them inside.  The stretch makes him ache inside and he rocks back onto his hand, trying to take more, trying to get his fingers deeper, longing to be filled.  He feels his cock hardening as he rubs his insides, needing it so much, arching his back and pressing his ass up into the air to get a better angle.  His arm quivers with the effort of holding himself up and he collapses down onto the bed, head down and ass raised high.

He works a forth finger in and it’s tight, so tight, but he’ll make himself loose soon.  His fingers hit that spot inside him, that spot he’s not allowed to touch, and his body jerks on the bed with the burst of feeling it sends through him.  He shouldn’t touch it, he should be good, but _oh,_ it’s as though his hole is throbbing with need.

Hands fall on his hips and a cry escapes him, fear mixing with arousal as he realizes that Graves must have finished and he _didn’t notice._   He freezes, fingers buried in his ass, and whimpers. Graves takes his wrist firmly and maneuvers him, placing his arm above his head and pulling Credence back so that his hips are flush against Graves’, kneeling behind him.  Graves places his palms on Credence’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart to expose his wet, pink hole.

“Eager tonight.”

Credence’s breath comes in gasps.  “Yes sir, for you sir.”

Graves presses his thumb in, tugging at the rim of Credence’s loose hole, and with his other hand he runs his fingers over the scars which cross Credence’s back.

“Not going to give me any trouble?”

Credence shakes his head furiously against the mattress.  “No – no, I won’t sir.”  He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself under the warmth of Graves’ hands.  “I’m ready for you sir, please will you put your cock inside me?”

Graves’ hands are back on Credence’s hips, still holding his ass open wide, and he roles his own hips forward.  Credence can feel the hardness of Graves’ still-clothed cock against his fluttering hole.  He trembles with the effort of keeping himself from pressing back into it.  He knows better; Graves just likes to use him.

“Yes, I will,” Graves murmurs.  His hands leave Credence for a moment and when they return the warm, solid length of Graves’ cock presses against Credence’s entrance.  “Now be quiet.”

Credence does his best to let his mind empty, to let himself go limp as Graves thrusts into him.  He enters Credence in one smooth movement, filling him completely, Credence loose enough that there’s no struggle.  Credence feels himself stretch around Graves’ cock, opening up to welcome it, and his mind goes blank.  His body rocks in time with Graves’ thrusts, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, and his muscles go loose.  He’s held up entirely by Graves’ grip on his hips, letting himself be taken easily.  He doesn’t have the will or the desire to pretend he’s for anything else.

He gets lost in Graves’ rhythm, startled with pleasure each time Graves happens to graze against that sensitive spot inside him.  It’s not what Credence is for, it’s not his purpose and he feels guilty for craving it.  Being fucked should be enough for him, he should feel complete to serve as a wet hole for Graves’ pleasure, but he can’t help how much he hopes for that burst of sensation, the sparks it sets off behind his eyes.

His mind drifts, and he doesn’t realize Graves is coming until he’s nearly emptied himself inside him.  When he pulls out and releases Credence’s hips he crumples onto the bed, come and slick dripping down his thighs.  His hole is still sensitive, twitching, and his cock bobs an angry red.

“Sir…” Credence whispers, barely audible.  “Sir… please…?”

Graves looks down at him, pity and disgust mingling for the pathetic boy before him.  Graves knows what he wants, his flushed cock and the abortive rocks of his hips leaving no question.  Graves sighs.  He’s feeling generous today, and he supposes it’s the easiest way to make the boy stop crying.  His ass is a mess, red and swollen and open, too filthy to touch.  He rakes a hand through his hair, glancing around the room. 

His eyes fall on the glass vase pushed to the back of his desk.  It’s been a long time since it’s held flowers, mostly forgotten about among the other items in the room, but in this case it might be exactly what he needs.  It has a slender, tapered neck with a wide body, and it’s just long enough to ensure there’s no mess. 

Graves grabs it and turns back to Credence, holding his head down with one hand and pressing the vase against his loose hole with the other.  Credence whimpers and jumps and Graves supposes it must be cold, but it goes in easy enough.  He pushes it in until the neck is fully inside, the boy’s insides visible through the clear glass, and rocks it until Credence twitches under his hand. 

There. 

He works that spot until tiny, pitiful sounds are spilling from the boy’s throat, and in no time at all drops of white are spilling from the tip of his cock.

“Oh – _oh,_ Th-thank you s-sir, _thank you_ ,” Credence gasps, lost.  He looks as though he’s just touched heaven itself.

Graves supposes, as he looks down at the boy sprawled in his bed, that it’s been a while since Credence has felt anything as good as a simple orgasm.  Graves leave him that way, insensate on the bed with his ass stretched wide, to clean up and pour himself a drink after a long day of work.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/), and don’t hesitate to send prompts! Everything in this series so far has been inspired by prompts, so let me know if there’s something you’d like to see :)


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